


i wanna get better

by beware_of_you



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, But plot, Emily's a mess, F/F, Henry wants what's best for his mom, JJ's a mess, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Mentions of Violence, Michael has amazing taste in cartoons, PTSD, Penelope Garcia is an angel, Some Fluff, This tag is my formal apology to Will, Will is a dick bc it fits with my narrative, and the best friend, bc he didn't deserve to be done dirty like that, everyone has PTSD, honestly if you don't read for any of the other tags read for penelope bc she's seriously great, how fun, i took a page from the writers and decided that they didn't canonically suffer enough, she's the best god mother, so they're perfect for each other, there's fluff i promise but there's a lot of angst to get through before that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beware_of_you/pseuds/beware_of_you
Summary: a power outage triggers jj's ptsd and forces emily to take a deeper look into her relationship with the blonde agent
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss
Comments: 10
Kudos: 251





	i wanna get better

**Author's Note:**

> i cannot write endings to save my life

Emily Prentiss honestly can't remember the last time she had a break. Ever since she stepped up into position as unit chief, there's been way too many nights than she can reasonably count where she's stayed over at the office or pulled an all nighter until all her reports were done. She can vividly remember the hotel rooms and inn suites the team frequented during cases, but she finds herself struggling to remember the print of the wallpaper in her bedroom. She thinks the only time she's really home anymore is honestly when she takes a shower and grabs a change of clothes from the guest room a few feet away from the door.

She really has no choice in the matter today; if it were up to her any other day of the week, she'd still be up at the office, finishing up the reports that endlessly seem to be pouring in. But people in higher positions than her have given the unit a mandatory few days off, not offering up much of an explanation other than the eight people that make up the BAU team were due for a break.

Emily can easily agree with that. After all, her team works hard and go through way too much for them not to deserve some time off. Herself, on the other hand, needs to constantly be working, or have something to do. It's a terrible habit she supposed she picked up from her parents, who never stopped with their busy lives to even pay attention to her growing up.

So, of course, when she's told to take a break, and that she really has no other choice in the matter, she's a bit pressed about it. On top of _that,_ she's on day three of no sleep other than the small power naps she manages to take on the tiny, lumpy couch in her office before anyone comes in, with nothing on her stomach but the shitty office coffee, a Kit-Kat bar from the vending machine and some natural organic smoothie Penelope had picked up for her one day before work with a raging headache starting to build behind her temples.

It's only _after_ she snaps at the poor, already timid new intern from a few floors down for no good reason (she'll ask Garcia for the woman's name when she's a bit more clear in the head to get her a bottle of expensive champagne as a sincere apology for the outburst) that she finally decides yeah, she really needs a break from her work.

As she steps into her apartment later that day (well, more night, as it's currently 7:00PM), she feels a bit strange, admittedly, but relieved in a way. Dropping off her purse and keys onto the dining room counter and swiftly locking her badge and gun in the safe, she begins to rummage her liquor cabinet until she produces a bottle of her favorite scotch.

She pours herself a generous glass before moving over to her record player. She doesn't think she's ever really used it, judging by the layer of dust covering the outside of the thing. But the inside is clean, and gives her all the incentive she needs to start flipping through the sleeves of albums she has stacked on the shelf underneath.

She finally settles on one, pulling out the record from the sleeve carefully before setting it on the player. She flips it on and brings the needle over, almost satisfied at the sound it makes as it connects with the grooves in the record. The music, a piano ballad, starts out softly, but its loud enough for her to hear as she finally sits down in a recliner and shuts her eyes. She relaxes as the music gradually progresses and grows louder, the tension leaving her body with every passing melody. It's nice, she decides, to be like this, to not have to worry about work for a few days. She sighs contently, stretching out in the chair and crossing her ankles, taking a sip from her glass. She's comfortable, and relaxed for the first time in a very long time.

But, of course, life likes to fuck with her and give her no breaks whatsoever.

A few moments later, her lights flicker, and the record player skips. And then, Emily Prentiss is cast into complete darkness. She's halfway through a sip of scotch and spits it out all over her shirt in surprise when the power goes out. Setting the glass down on the table with a loud curse, she sighs angrily and stands, shaking the liquid off her hand.

She digs around in her "oh shit" drawer (appropriately named for moments just like this) until she pulls out a flashlight and a spare battery for the device. She comes across a book of matches, but leaves them be for now. _After_ she's changed, she decides she'll come back down and light a fire, maybe order some takeout, and that she won't let this power outage ruin her night.

She flicks the flashlight on, firmly tapping the bottom of the light with her palm a few times until the beam gets brighter. She uses it to safely maneuver to her bedroom and into the master bathroom—she smelled of the liquor she spit out on herself.

A warm shower that she spends more time in than she would like to admit in almost complete darkness without managing to drop a bottle of shampoo or body wash on her toes has her feeling a bit better about the sudden turn of events. She goes back into her room in just a towel and changes into more comfortable clothes. As she's pulling on her shirt with one hand, holding the flashlight with the other, and coming back down the stairs, her phone begins to ring.

She quickly moves to the counter and fishes her phone out of her coat pocket, briefly checking the screen before she answers. She doesn't have numbers saved—a few too many run ins with unsubs that have become way too obsessed with specific members of the team over the years had forced her into that habit.

However, she's very familiarized with the number that's scrolling across her screen, and doesn't hesitate to answer it. "Hey, buddy! What's up? You okay?"

"Hey, Emily! I'm okay." After a brief pause from the thirteen year old, "The power's out, though."

"Yeah, it's out over here, too. There must be rolling outages through the city," Emily replies, leaning on her elbows against the granite counter top. "Michael and your mom okay?"

Another pause. "Well... Mikey's okay," Henry tells her almost hesitantly. "He's with Aunt Penelope watching Teen Titans in her living room—she's got power."

Emily raises an eyebrow slightly at the news, slightly confused. "You're at Garcia's?"

"Yeah, mom dropped us off here after the power went out. Dad's not at his house because he's out on call and Uncle Spence is visiting his mom," he explains with a soft sigh. "I wanted to stay with her so she wouldn't be home alone, but she said I needed to keep an eye on Mikey."

Emily worries her bottom lip between her teeth at the statement, stomach coiling with concern. She knows JJ's strong; she's grown a lot from her time in the unit, been through too much shit that's caused her to become tough. But she also knows that the blonde has a lot of her own inner demons that stem from the trauma of what she's gone through. JJ's become almost as good at compartmentalizing her thoughts as Emily is, which worries her a lot.

(Sometimes Emily misses the days they would sit together and talk, air out all their feelings and worries. They haven't done anything like that since the plane ride to Paris.

They certainly haven't talked like they used to since Emily came back.)

The fact that JJ is seeming to not only have a hard time at the moment, but dropped her boys off so she could be alone greatly concerns Emily. The blonde _always_ finds a way to keep her feelings and thoughts locked away from her children as to not worry them.

If they're at Garcia's, it must be bad.

"I know you might be busy," Henry starts off again, snapping Emily out of her thoughts. "But—"

"I'll check on her," the brunette promises, cutting off the teenager softly. "I'll make sure she's okay."

"Really?" He tries to hide it, but Emily can tell from the small sigh he lets out that Henry's relieved.

"Of course. I said I'd always be there if you needed me to be," the brunette reminds him with a slight smile.

"I know. Thank you, Emmy."

At the old nickname, Emily can't help but break out into a genuine smile for a split second. "Anytime, Henry. Can you do me a favor and put Penelope on the phone?"

"Yeah," he says softly. He pauses, then leaves her with, "Love you."

She chokes up at the words, barely managing to reply, "Love you too, buddy," before he passes his phone off to Garcia. "Pen?"

A sigh, much lighter than Henry's sounds through the receiver, the background noise fading until it's just static. "Please tell me you're going to check on our girl?"

"I'm heading over there now," Emily swears, gathering her keys and wallet and shoving them along with the flashlight underneath her arm. "How was she when she dropped them off?"

Garcia sighs again, her concern coming through much more clear than Henry's. "Okay, but not entirely," she explains poorly before, "She was acting normal, but it's so close to the anniversary of..." She stops again, unable to finish her statement, not with the boys so close by. Not when they don't know, or need to hear about it.

Emily closes her eyes and exhales slowly with a nod.

Of course it was.

Of course JJ would only act like this so close to the anniversary of her abduction and torture. That, on top of the power outage, are stressors, profiling 101 (Emily nearly winces at that thought, at admitting to herself she's _profiling_ her teammate), and possibly triggered the blonde worse than it would normally.

"I got her," Emily promises thickly, unlocking her car as she exits her apartment building. "You got the boys?"

"Of course. They're angels," Garcia swears. "I'll let them know she's good with you, okay? Keep me updated? I'm worried about her."

"As soon as I know, so will you," the brunette promises again.

"Take care of her, Emily."

"I will." When it came to JJ, it wasn't something Emily took lightly, and Garcia knows it.

"I know you will. I love you. Please call me when you can, okay?"

"As soon as I can," Emily promises, swallowing hard. "I love you too, PG. Bye." She ends the call when the technical analyst repeats the goodbye, immediately typing in JJ's number as she heads out the door.

There's no answer for a long time, which only spikes her anxiety more as she heads down to her car. As she unlocks it, and just before the call goes to voice message, the blonde answers.

It's silent for equally as long, Emily chewing on her lip as she waits for JJ to speak. She can hear the blonde's slow, labored breathing, as if she's just managing to hold herself together. "Jayje?" she ventures cautiously, hopping up into the driver's seat.

Another pause before— "Em?"

The sound of her voice, strained and choked up, as if JJ was at the end of her rope is all the deciding factor Emily needs to go over there. "Jen, Henry called and said you were home alone. I'm going to come over to make sure you're okay, alright?"

A pause.

Emily waits, nearly breaking the skin of her lip as she listens for the blonde's response. She doesn't mean to be so blunt, or invite herself over so abruptly like this, but can't stand the thought of JJ home alone dealing with the panic attacks and the nightmares that come along with the episodes. "Jennifer? Is that okay?"

An audible swallow sounds over the phone. She speaks so quietly, Emily has to strain to hear her say, "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay," Emily murmurs back, putting her phone on the handsfree stand attached to the heating vents. "Can you do me a favor and stay on the phone with me until I get there?"

Pause. "Yeah."

The brunette swallows hard, nodding to herself as she repeats softly, "Okay." She puts her car in reverse and backs out of the driveway, exhaling audibly.

She drums her fingers against the wheel as she starts the nearly forty-five minute drive to JJ's in silence, listening carefully for any signs of distress from the blonde over the phone.

What she doesn't do, or at least tries not to, is think about the possible implications her actions have, refuses to acknowledge them. After all, she questions herself, she'd do the same for anyone else on the team, wouldn't she? She feels a strong sense of fierce protection over all seven people that make up the team, especially the three youngest members. She wouldn't hesitate to go out of her way, throw her minute plans for herself out the window, to go over and keep either Reid or Garcia company at a time like this.

But JJ wasn't Reid, and she wasn't Garcia. Her relationship with Reid and Garcia was _easy_ and simple; she sees them almost as the younger siblings she always wanted but never had. As much as Emily refuses to acknowledge it, her and JJ's relationship had never been that dry, cut and simple.

It had always been so complicated, even more because of Emily's "death". JJ had been the only one, besides Aaron Hotchner, to know about the coverup, to know that Emily was really alive, but had to go undercover to protect Declan. But Emily chalks a bulk of that up to the amount of information and sources JJ had access to at the time; it was the blonde that had given her the fake identities and access to files and databases that even Garcia would never manage to get a hold of, after all.

She doesn't think about the online Scrabble games, how they both broke _the_ only cardinal rule just to communicate with each other, even if it was just a word every few days.

She doesn't think of the blackbird tattoo covering the shamrock scar on her chest, refuses to admit to herself that the real reason she got it specifically done was because JJ suggested it. She has just needed the burn covered, she's told herself over the years.

She doesn't think about years ago, when she dived head first into a situation where she could have been killed just to disarm William LaMontange from a live bomb, despite Derek Morgan having far more experience under his belt working with explosives. She chalks that up to her stubborn hero complex, not because, at the time, Will was the most important person in JJ's life, second only to Henry.

She doesn't think about the phone call from Hotch she received years ago when the man had informed her that JJ was in trouble. She doesn't think about how quickly she got on a plane, how quickly she arrived back in the states to save the blonde.  
  
She doesn't think about how she saved JJ from plummeting off that rooftop without a second thought despite the risks for herself involved. She, too, chalks it up simply to her hero complex, and never once acknowledging the nightmares she had for weeks afterwards where she was just a _second_ too late, or her grip was just a _little_ too weak.

All the possible implications make things too complicated, and Emily doesn't want things to be complicated. Not with JJ.

Never with JJ.

But it always was, no matter how much she chooses not to believe it.

And here she is again, dropping everything because the blonde is in distress, is hurting and all Emily can do to make things easier for herself is to chalk it up to this being in her nature because she doesn't want to think of those implications, to acknowledge that her actions make things just a bit more complicated.

She'd do this for anyone else on the team, after all, she chants in her head like a mantra.

Swallowing hard, she comes to a stop at a red light. "Jay, you still with me?" she asks softly, hoarsely, realizing the line has been silent for around ten minutes now.

"Yeah." A pause. "The boys?"

"They're at Penelope's," Emily reminds her gently, slowly, as to not say anything that may trigger her further. "They're okay."

The line goes silent again, but Emily waits patiently, driving a bit over the speed limit when the light goes green.

"They keep taking from me," JJ croaks out from the phone, voice wavering and cracking near the end of her statement (Emily knows that the "they" isn't the blonde's sons). A soft, but audible, sniffle sounds from the line. Her captures have taken so much from her: her sense of safety and security, the ability to sleep through most nights, her ability to communicate with everyone like she used to, the last remnants of her rapidly declining marriage, her sanity.

Her unborn child, a sibling for Michael and Henry that never even had the chance to live. And now they were taking her sons, forcing her to push them away when her nightmares got too vivid, too real.

Emily's heart aches at the statement, her foot pressing on the gas a bit more firmly, the law be damned. She knows what this is like, to have everything stripped from yourself. She's experienced it twice, once at the hands of Ian Doyle, and then again years later with Mr. Scratch. The scars she has on her body are few and far between when compared to the mental scars these men have left, scars she still struggles with even to this day.

Scars which she desperately wanted no one on her team, past and present, to ever have to deal with.

And now JJ is suffering with the same scars, is being affected by them much deeply than Emily could even imagine.

It's absolutely devastating.

"Where are you?" JJ asks softly, not even bothering to hide the fact she's crying anymore, her voice wavering unsteadily over the speaker.

Quickly looking at her surroundings, Emily replies, "I'm near Scully's,", a local bar the team frequented on the weekends they were home. It's around thirty minutes from JJ's, so the brunette speeds up more, going well over twenty miles over the speed limit. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

Emily arrives in front of JJ's small, dark house in less than ten minutes (and with only a _few_ more laws broken on her end).

She hears JJ's breath hitch over the phone, no doubt because of the sound of her car pulling into the driveway. "Emily..." she murmurs apprehensively, her voice strained with concern.

"It's okay, it's just me. I promise," the brunette is quick to assure the blonde over the phone, shutting off her car and hopping out. "Is the house locked?"

JJ goes quiet again, but Emily waits patiently by her car, despite every part of her screaming to go inside and comfort her friend. She picks at the skin of her cuticles, nervously tapping her foot against the concrete of the driveway.

Finally, the blonde speaks again. "Yeah, it's locked," she whispers, sighing out softly.

"The key still in the same place?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, stay on with me until I'm with you," Emily instructs softly, heading up to the front door and squatting down next to the pathos plant by the door. She clicks on her flashlight and looks around, reaching her hand into the damp leaves and soil until she has a hold of the small ceramic frog that hides the extra key. She pops the bottom off the thing, using the key to unlock the door before reversing the procedure, hiding the frog deep within the huge leaves.

She pauses before she enters the house, a sudden thought occurring to her. "Jen, are you armed?"

"My gun's in the safe," the blonde croaks, sniffing audibly through the line.

With that reassurance, the brunette enters the house, gently shutting the door behind her. The house was cast in an eerie blue glow from the moonlight through the windows, the atmosphere only made worse by the absolute silence in the house. Moving the flashlight around the room, Emily looks around, calling out gently, "JJ?"

She's met with complete silence.

It makes her more vigilant, more worried as she continues to search the downstairs for the blonde and comes up with nothing. "Jayje, where are you at?"

"In Michael's old room," the blonde responds quietly.

With a soft, slightly relieved sigh, Emily heads up the stairs cautiously. She finds the youngest Jareau's old room easily; it's the first door to the left when she came up the stairs. She clicks off the flashlight and slowly heads to the door. She listens carefully to the phone for a few moments, for any changes in the blonde's breathing or behavior. When she senses none, she says out loud rather than to the phone, "Jay, I'm going to hang up, okay?"

She gets a tiny "mhm" in response, so clicks the red button to end the call, hand on the doorknob to the room. She doesn't burst right on in, she slowly opens the door, reminding JJ gently that the person at the door was just her.

The only light in the room is coming from JJ's phone, casting the blonde in a soft, white light. She's huddled on the floor against the wall with her knees up to her chest. Her hair is slightly disheveled, as if she had used her hands to grip the strands as she desperately tried to hold herself together. Her shoulders are hunched, defeated. Her normal bright, blue eyes are dulled and slightly red from her tears. She looks so small, so fragile and lost.

It's the first time since the Tobias Henkel case that Emily's seen her like this, so scared and broken.

When the door creaks, JJ's head whips up to Emily, expression slightly panicked. She instinctively backs up into the wall slightly, eyes untrusting, wary.

Slowly crouching down to her knees, Emily holds her palms up peacefully. "Hey, it's only me, Jen. It's Emily," she assures the blonde gently, making no move to go towards her. It wouldn't help if she moved suddenly, or too quickly. She doesn't want to make JJ any more uncomfortable or more afraid than she already was, so waits by patiently, soft eyes never leaving JJ's. "Jennifer, it's Emily."

Blinking slowly, JJ frowns a bit, as if she expected the brunette to disappear. When the unit chief is still there when she opens her eyes again, her frown seems to lessen. "Emily?" she questions softly, hesitantly, as if making sure she's real.

"I'm here," Emily promises quietly.

The blonde's lower lip trembles and she inhales sharply to try and hold the tears threatening to escape back. When her eyes flicker up to Emily's, she whimpers softly, tears slipping down her cheeks as she croaks, "They took everything from me."

And then she bursts into tears.

Emily softens at the sight, at her words, gently crawling over and placing a hand reassuringly on JJ's arm. At the initial touch, the blonde freezes, but relaxes slowly and falls into the brunette's arms, sobbing softly into her sweater.

Emily doesn't tell her it will be okay, can't force herself to make any promises that feel empty, but she does hold the blonde in her arms carefully. Her hand rubs gentle, reassuring circles against JJ's back, reminding herself to remain professional, to not cross any other boundaries, like press a kiss to the top of the blonde's head, or stroke back her hair with her fingers.

Emily doesn't know how long they stay on the floor like that, with JJ sobbing and the older agent holding her, offering her a grasp to reality, but eventually the blonde's cries slow. Her breath hiccups and trembles when she quiets down. Her tears stop, either from the younger agent being too tired to cry or unable to cry any longer. Her grip on the older agent is like a vice, hands grasped tightly around her biceps securely. If it hurts, Emily doesn't voice her discomfort, just remains as silent as she has been, offering her comfort by just being there for JJ.

The blonde's body eventually gives into the mental and physical exhaustion as she slumps against Emily. Her head falls into the brunette's chest, a soft sigh, the first relieved sound the older agent has heard from her all night, escaping from her lips at the warmth Emily provides. She curls into the older agent comfortably, too tired to do anything else.

It makes the brunette's heart skip a beat, but she keeps her expression neutral for the blonde's sake. She's moved both her arms from JJ at this point, only keeping one wrapped securely around her shoulders. Some time during the blonde's breakdown, they've switched positions, with Emily pressed against the cold wall.

She knows it's likely that she's going to have to carry the blonde to bed because she very much can't allow JJ to stay in this room—it's cold and only houses a few toy boxes and storage bins. JJ's too exhausted to move, and Emily is doubtful she'll be able to coax the blonde to walk ten feet to her bedroom.

Emily moves away from the wall, causing the blonde to tense and look up at her with a bewildered expression. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm going to get you to bed, okay?" the brunette assures softly. She doesn't voice the question, but her eyebrow slightly raises—she won't do anything JJ won't consent to, even if she is highly against the blonde moving on her own right now.

A slight nod is all the brunette needs to scoop up the blonde in her arms easily, reminding herself that she would do this for anyone else on the team as she carries JJ to her bedroom. Carefully, she places the blonde on the bed, giving her arm a comforting squeeze. There's no way she's going home tonight; she's long resided with that fact the moment Henry called her to check up on his mother. She doesn't feel right just leaving JJ like this, all alone to face the inevitable nightmares.

Emily manages to meet the blonde's exhausted gaze, rubbing her arm comfortingly. "Hey, I'm not leaving okay? I'm going to be right here with you. You're worn out mentally and physically and need to get some rest. I'll take the guest bedroom but I promise that I'll be here as soon as I hear you, okay?"

Blinking quickly, JJ meets Emily's gaze  
with a panicked expression. She shakes her head quickly, grasping onto the older woman's hand tightly. "Stay in here," she croaks, biting down on her lip.

"Okay, okay." Emily glances around the room, nodding towards the old recliner in the corner. "Right there. I'll be there."

Again, JJ shakes her head. She swallows hard, eyes filling with tears again as she looks at Emily. "Please, here," she begs softly. She wipes her eyes with her palms, lip trembling. "I can't... I need..."

Emily's eyes soften at the confession, heart clenching in her chest tightly. Without allowing the blonde to continue, she nods in understanding—JJ needs to assure that she's _here_ and not anywhere else, needs Emily to be the one to ground herself. "Okay."

The mantra Emily kept reminding herself through the night gets thrown out the window as JJ relaxes at her response. It gets tossed aside when she lays back in the bed with the blonde, intending to keep her distance out of respect and to remain professional. It gets tossed out when JJ, one again, curls her body up into Emily's, arms grasping her waist like a vice.

It's completely demolished when, once again, the blonde's head finds its place on Emily's chest, and she finally gives in to her exhaustion.

Because Emily _wouldn't_ do this for anyone else on the team, not like this. She wouldn't hold them in her arms. She wouldn't carry them to bed. She most certainly wouldn't stay in bed with them, not like this. She wouldn't hold them in bed, _not like this_.

She certainly wouldn't do this for Garcia or Reid.

But she's doing it for JJ. Once again, she's making things between them complicated.

Closing her eyes with a thick, audible swallow, Emily shakily exhales and carefully grabs her phone, refusing to acknowledge much more than that as she goes to text Garcia.

_E: I have her. She's okay, let the boys know. Are they okay?_

A few minutes later...

_G: I knew you'd take care of her. The boys are both with me: asleep. Michael was out a few minutes after our phone call and Henry went to sleep not too long after. He knows Jay's in good hands. Thank you for checking on her. Get some sleep, love you._

_E: You do the same, Pen. Love you too._

With a soft sigh, Emily places her phone down on the side table carefully. She lays back in the bed cautiously, as to not wake the blonde up. She takes the moment to study her expression; it's calmed, mellowed out. She looks absolutely exhausted, sleep only providing somewhat of a relief from her earlier episodes. She places an arm loosely around the younger woman's waist, relaxing when the frown lines between JJ's eyes disappear at the contact.

With somewhat of a reassurance, and with her own exhaustion finally catching up to her, Emily allows herself to fall asleep in JJ's arms.

She jolts awake when she sees the bright light of the sun through her eyelids, immediately going into panic mode when she notices the absence of JJ from beside her. Feeling around for a moment, her heart races faster and faster when the sheets beneath her fingers feel cool; she had been alone for a while.

Whipping her head around and nearly falling from the bed, she zones in on the distinct sound of water hitting a tub. Forcing herself to relax and listen for a second, she just manages to hear the shower from the master bedroom turning on. Beside her, the bed is somewhat made, and she makes note of the missing hairbrush that had sat on the side table the night before.

Sighing out softly, Emily runs a hand through her hair as a meager attempt to calm herself, sinking back down on the mattress until her heart rate slows. It's only after she's calm that she really allows herself to get up again; she's starting to feel like the the other side of a one night stand. Besides, she doesn't want to hover and make this situation any more awkward than it possibly is. She and JJ can talk about it later, if the blonde wants.

Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand and tying up her hair into a messy ponytail, she grabs her keys and wallet off the table she vaguely remembers placing them on last night. She slips on her shoes before heading down to the Dunkin Donuts that's less than five minutes from the blonde's house.

She only came for a coffee, maybe a bagel and donuts for JJ and the boys, but her stomach growls in protest at the tantalizing smells coming from behind the counter. Before she knows it, she's walking out of the small restaurant with a small box of six donuts, a greasy, white bag, and a cup holder with two tall cups full of hot coffee.

Emily arrives back at JJ's, only slightly embarrassed at how silly she must look as carries the food to the front door. Balancing everything expertly in one arm, she manages to get the door open and bump it shut with her hip. She heads to the kitchen, mouth open to call out for the blonde when she spots her on a chair in the dining room.

Her hair is still soaking wet from her shower, the tips dripping and soaking into the material of the long sleeve shirt she's wearing. Her legs are tucked up in the chair with her, knees up to her chest.

She acknowledges Emily as she comes in with a glance, the phone up to her ear visible to the older profiler. Her jaw clenches as she listens to the other person on the line, free hand coming up to rub at her temples. She lets out a small, irritated sigh. "Will, honestly, can we not do this right now? I had a really long nig—"

Emily tries her best to tune out after that. JJ's divorce with Will was messy; the last year of their marriage had consisted of the two constantly fighting and going at each other's throats. Even though it had been years since they split at this point, the two have been on rocky terms since then. Emily can barely remember a time that JJ had ever been exactly content to deal with her ex-husband, especially when it came to the boys or, lord forbid, her job.

JJ gets cut off by Will, Emily assumes from the abrupt pause, her lips pursing slightly before falling flat into a look of annoyance. Her jaw clenches again as she leans back in the chair, closing her eyes as her ex husband continues his rantings. "I don't see what it matters to you— you don't live here anymore," the blonde bites back angrily.

She suddenly sits up in the chair again, pushing her legs off and onto the floor as she sits up right. "They're my kids, too, and what I do with them during my time is _my_ business," she says in a low, threatening voice that Emily has rarely heard come from the blonde. "The boys are with Penelope; she has just as much a right to see them as we do." JJ then holds the phone away from her ear, shooting it an irritated side glance as Will continues on through the line. Taking a deep breath, she forces a smile on her face as she concludes the conversation in a sarcastically sweet tone.

"I'll drop them off at your place in a few days. Goodbye." She presses down on the red end button forcefully, tossing her phone on the table with an exasperated sigh. "Asshole!" she grumbles, groaning as she leans her head on the table.

"Is... everything okay?" Emily ventures cautiously, having already set the food bag and box of donuts off to the side, both cups of coffee freed from the cup holder. She leans forward on the countertop, watching JJ carefully.

The blonde groans again, pushing herself up on her elbows and leaning her cheek into her palm. "I know he's the father of my kids and that I have to deal with him, but I really hate dealing with him when he gets like this," she sighs, rubbing her eyes with her palms before turning to Emily. "He's mad that the boys ended up at Pen's last night instead of at his."

The brunette raises an eyebrow. "Wasn't he out on patrol last night?"

JJ throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Yes, he's the first person I called before..." She trails off, exhaling softly before continuing on just as strong as she had before, "He's the one that told me he couldn't take them. He's acting like I took them out of the state instead of down the street! She lives less than twenty minutes from my house for christ sake!"

She rubs her temples, bringing her legs back up on the chair with her. "Really, he's just mad I dropped them off with Garcia instead of with him because he, and I quote "has more of a right to them than she does". As if he doesn't get enough time with them already." The last part of her statement is said softer, a bit sadder. Her eyes dull a bit, shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

"If Garcia messes with his credit or something, I'll turn a blind eye to it," Emily jokes lightly, ducking her head to meet the blonde's eyes with a gentle smile.

JJ does manage to reciprocate her smile, leaning her chin on her knees. "She's already swore to me that she'd mess around with his records if he ever screwed with me. At this point, I'm half tempted to let her," she cracks back, eyes finally landing on the set up on her counter. "You got donuts?"

Cheeks warming at the acknowledgment, Emily clears her throat. "And coffee. And some breakfast sandwiches. And some bagels." At the amused look on the blonde's face, the brunette does blush, rubbing the back of her neck before clearing her throat again. "I... I didn't know if you ate dinner last night and figured you'd be hungry. And then I picked up a half dozen donuts for you and the boys just to have whenever they get home."

JJ's gaze softens at this. "You didn't have to do that," she insists softly, taking the cup from Emily when the brunette walks over and offers it. After a sip, she realizes it's just as she likes it—no creamer and only two sugar.

"I wanted to," Emily waves her off, placing the bag down on the table and sitting off to the side of JJ. "Go on and get something to eat—I don't know about you but I'm starving."

Instead of making another joke, JJ reaches into the bag and pulls out the two sandwiches and two bagels, offering half to Emily in question. "Does it matter who gets what?"

Switching the bagel bags around, the older agent taps on the one she gave to JJ. "Poppyseed," she informs the blonde softly, dumping out the rest of the bag into her palm. "And a butter," she offers, pushing the small container over to JJ before starting to eat her own breakfast. When she notices the slightly surprised expression on the blonde's face, she swallows her bite. "Is everything okay?"

Shaking her head slowly, JJ nods and assures her with a small smile. "Yeah, everything's fine, I just—It's my favorite," she admits. "I didn't think anyone but Spence knew."

Shrugging with a playful smirk, Emily responds, "I must be real good at this profiling thing then."

"Okay, okay, keep your ego in check over there or I'm going to start calling you Derek around the office," JJ quips back playfully with a roll of her eyes.

A silence falls between them that the brunette can't quite decipher after that, both women quietly enjoying their respective greasy breakfast sandwiches and the piping hot bagels that had just been popped from the oven as Emily ordered them. There's a tension that's still between them, and she's not quite sure if it's because of the conversation with Will or because of what happened last night. She knows they eventually have to talk about it—at this point, it's inevitable, but Emily doesn't want to comment and possibly make JJ more upset than she already seems to be.

She's picking at her bagel and stubbornly refusing to even look over at the unit chief, gripping her coffee cup tightly. After taking a sip of her own coffee and polishing off the rest of her sandwich, Emily gently wipes her hands off on a napkin, thinking carefully before speaking up softly, "You deserve to see the boys just as much as he does. You're a great mother and have a right to them just as much as he does."

JJ shrugs a bit at this, chewing on her bottom lip before sighing heavily, pinching off pieces of her bagel and placing them on another napkin beside her. "I know I do, it's just..." she pauses, pinching off another piece and popping it into her mouth. She slumps in the chair, sighing again. "It's been so long," she says quietly.

Emily doesn't understand what JJ means by that, but doesn't question the blonde out loud about it. She waits patiently, using both hands to wrap around the coffee cup so she's not tempted to reach out towards her friend.

"It's been years," JJ corrects herself with a sad chuckle, staring at the table and tracing the grain with her finger slowly. "I thought I had a grip on it and then..." She stops, swallows audibly, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know what went through my head, I just wanted to get the boys to a safe place and when he couldn't take them, I just took them to the next person I could think of."

Rubbing her eyes with her palms, the blonde shakily exhales. "It's been nearly seven years, Emily, and it still affects me just as much now as it did back then," she murmurs dejectedly. "And all it took was a stupid power outage to trigger it."

At this, Emily does break and reach out towards JJ, resting a hand comfortingly on her arm. "You went through a deeply traumatic and horrifying ordeal. Relapses are completely normal. Recognizing that something was wrong and getting the boys to a safe space was the best thing you could have done."

"I wanted to have my gun," she admits, refusing to meet Emily's gaze. "I knew that, rationally, it wouldn't help, but I still wanted to have it."

"You had it locked away," the brunette reminds her gently. "You kept yourself safe."

"I didn't tell anyone about it," JJ points out softly.

"You have two amazing sons that care a lot about you and can recognize when you need help. They both know they can reach out to Spencer, to Penelope or anyone else on the team when you need help. And they did just that," Emily tells her softly. "Anyone would have come out here for you. I just happened to be the one that Henry got a hold of."

At this, the blonde does raise her head and acknowledge Emily's words with a slight nod. She leans her face back into her knees and sighs heavily. "I just... I'm worried that, if Will really wants to, he'll use it against me if he decides to go to court again."

"He won't," Emily promises firmly without hesitation, without faltering. She may not understand how deeply their problems stem, or what exactly happened between the two, but one thing she can guarantee is that Will won't use the children as leverage against JJ. Not like this; he wouldn't stoop so low, no matter how much of an asshole he had been towards her the past few years. It just wasn't in his nature to be that malicious and cold. Besides, if he took the boys away from JJ permanently, they would never forgive him for it.

Plus, Emily can guarantee that Garcia would stick true to her word and find some way to ruin his life if he even attempted something like that. (She knows she certainly _would_ turn a blind eye to Garcia's behavior if that ever happened, and would _most definitely_ find her own way to make his life a living hell).

The blonde shrugs again, shoulders rolling forward. "I just don't want there to be a day where I don't recognize it in time and I end up hurting them."

"You won't," Emily reassures just as firmly, as quickly as before. "The fact that you recognized it after so long shows you know you're aware of an attack coming on. You'll know, and you'll do the necessary steps to protect them and yourself."

JJ lifts her head from her knees, leaning her head against her palm as she finally looks over at the brunette. "Does it still happen to you?"

"More than I'd like to admit," she murmurs, mirroring the blonde's position, propping her elbow on the table instead of her knee. "And sometimes it hits just as hard as it did years ago."

"How do you deal with it? Does it ever get easier?"

"I ran away," the brunette admits with a sad smile. "When things were getting too bad after Doyle, I took the first opportunity that came my way because it meant getting away."

She pauses for a sip of coffee. "I thought that being away from it all, distancing myself from the memories would help the healing process. It didn't work. Working for Interpol was distracting, and leading the team over there kept my mind off of it when I was at the office, but it didn't stop the nightmares, or keep the panic attacks away. In fact, it seemed to make it worse," she recalls, breaking eye contact with JJ to look down at the table.

She hadn't thought about London for a long time, wants to forget about it most nights because there's no good memories associated there for her. The nights spent at her apartment were spent with her in the midsts of constant, horrifying panic attacks that left her scared to sleep with any lights off and without her gun by her bedside. She had no one over there to talk to, no one she trusted like she did in the States. It was the first time in a long time that she had truly felt alone, and the first time in her life she truly needed to be _with_ someone.

"What did help?" the blonde asks softly, snapping Emily out of her thoughts.

Blinking a few times to clear her head, she clears her throat and smiles a bit. "Coming back here helped. Being back on the team with you guys was a saving grace," she admits. "It gets easier when you're surrounded with people who love and trust you as much as you do them."

The second part of the blonde's original question makes Emily pause.

Had it gotten easier for her over the years?

Certainly, she's had less attacks than she did before, especially when compared to the months following her "death" and abduction. And certainly being back in Quantico was a walk in the park when compared with London.

But wondering if it got easier is a more difficult question to answer.

There's times the panic attacks are so much for her, they'll paralyze her for hours on end until her body gives out from the exhaustion. She still has to sleep with her bedside table lamp on and keeps a gun just below her bed in a safe for easy access. Some nights, if they're bad, she'll lose sleep rather than chance to face the dark recesses of her mind. She wonders if that's why she likes spending most of the time at the office, because at least at work, she can focus _on work_. If she's at home, she's forced to confront what's going on in her head, and she never did like to analyze herself too deeply like that in fear of what she would find.

There's times the scars from Doyle still hurt, the shamrock brand on her chest burning and the vertical, jagged pink scar left from the stake throbbing with phantom pains. She still feels incredibly uneasy in hospitals, will argue vigorously if she's injured in the field to avoid a trip to the ER because of the hallucinations she experienced when Peter Lewis held her hostage. She avoids smoke machines, fog, and bursts of steam like they're a plague, even if they are entirely harmless. She thinks at this point if she ever needed surgery, she'd take her chance with the risk of shock rather than being put under local anesthetic.

"Some things are easier to deal with than others," Emily begins slowly. "I'd be lying if I said that things are easy— it's not. There's still things that are incredibly difficult. Some days, my own panic attacks are so bad, they're paralyzing. But it does get easier to deal with over time. Eventually you have to accept that things won't go back to the way they were before. You start to find new ways to cope, to live with it, and to overcome it in your own ways. It takes time, but you push, and slowly, things almost start to feel normal again."

There's less tension in the air than there was before, and JJ's posture doesn't seem to be so defeated anymore. Her eyes have slightly brightened, her shoulders no longer sagging. She's even begun to eat pieces of her bagel again. Emily feels a sense of relief at the small improvements, and can't help but let herself relax at the sight.

"I really needed this right now," the blonde admits quietly. "One of our talks—I've missed them. I forgot how good it was to talk to you. You always know what to say without giving any bullshit."

At the confession, the brunette's heart swells. "I've missed them, too," she admits just as softly. It feels like the time just after her "death" again, back when they both were able to talk to each other about everything so easily, so freely.

It felt nice to be like that again, Emily admits to herself.

The silence that once again falls between them is less tense. JJ seems to have moved on from her argument with Will, his hurtful words tossed aside from her mind. She finishes eating her bagel and now sits more comfortably in the chair, both hands gripping onto her coffee cup. Emily's hands are clasped back together, not wanting to make anything awkward between them.

"When you said that anyone on the team would have come out here for me... did you mean that?" the younger agent ventures gently after a few minutes of silence, looking over the lid of the cup at the unit chief.

"Of course. You know that they would. That's what we do—we all care about and for each other," Emily answers honestly.

"Would they have dropped everything to come over here, hold through the night and gotten me and the boys breakfast?" JJ presses, now breaking eye contact to look down at the table. She sets her cup down, glancing over to gauge Emily's reaction.

The brunette is rendered speechless at this, at the turn the conversation has taken. This wasn't a talk she had planned on having; not next week, not months from now, and certainly not right now. If it were up to her, this was a conversation she wants to avoid up until the day she's buried in the ground.

Pressing her lips together in a flat line and trying not to show any emotion, Emily takes a long drink from her cup, now as engrossed in the wood grain of the table as the blonde had been earlier. "We don't have to have this conversation," she finally murmurs like its an offer, setting her nearly empty cup down on the table.

"It's not something we can keep putting off," JJ points out softly. She puffs out a sigh, legs sliding off the chair and onto the ground. She's sitting much straighter now, looking more determined than before. "I mean how many more times do we have to end up like this after one of us just saved the other from a dangerous situation? Can we really keep chalking it up as something less significant than it really is?"

"Once we have this conversation, everything will change," Emily sighs timidly, running a hand through her hair.

JJ locks eyes with her, now interlocking her own fingers and leaning against the table. "Haven't things changed? They changed as soon as you went undercover in Paris. We can't pretend we ever went back to what we were before then."

She breaks eye contact, exhaling softly and swallowing hard. "How many times do we have to pretend that what we do for each other is normal? How am I supposed to think that me dropping everything to make sure you were safe while you were undercover is normal? The Scrabble games?" She brings her arms up on the table, leaning against them. "When I was being tortured, and I hallucinated _you,_ not Will or Spence, saving me, how am I supposed to believe that things between us can ever be, or ever were, _normal_?"

"You hallucinated me?" Emily asks softly, frowning in confusion. She hadn't known about that. She didn't even know that JJ had hallucinated after she was rescued from her abductors. "You never told me."

"I haven't told anyone," JJ replies shortly. "Because I was scared to know what it meant. Scared to know that it wasn't normal, and that our relationship isn't all that simple. What am I supposed to think when we keep ending up in situations like this? I don't want to be afraid anymore."

By this point, the older agent is holding onto what little control she has left to stay completely calm about this situation. Her palms are sweaty and her heart is pounding. Her throat is dry and her fingers are starting to cramp from the hold her hands have on each other. She's half tempted to pinch herself to ensure that this is real life, not some dream. "JJ..."

Exhaling slowly, the blonde finishes up the cup of coffee and looks over at the brunette. "Maybe I want everything to change, Emily. Maybe I'm tired of dancing around this and putting it off."

"It's... not that simple," Emily murmurs, attempting to be the voice of reason. "The boys, the job, the others..."

"The boys are more aware than anyone gives them credit for," JJ defends. "Why do you think they stopped calling you Aunt Emily?"

"They don't call Luke uncle," the brunette points out.

Biting back a scoff, JJ waves her off, "He doesn't like to be called "Uncle Luke", he much rather be called Luke."

"The job..."

"It hasn't affected how we work, it never has," the blonde continues. "And I'm pretty sure Garcia has been betting on us with everyone for _years._ So what is there to be afraid of?"

"It changes everything," Emily murmurs.

"The only thing that changes is how open we are about this," JJ says firmly. She reaches over the table and lays her hands on Emily's wrists gently. "Are you going to keep pretending that what we have is normal? It doesn't take a profiler to see how we feel about each other."

Looking down at the blonde's hands, Emily pauses, her thoughts running wildly. She swallows audibly, unclenching her hands and laying her palms so they're pressed flush with JJ's. "I guess it doesn't," she agrees softly, sighing out gently. "Change is good, right?"

"You are the one that said it was easier to heal when you're with people who love and care about you," the blonde points out with a soft smile at the acceptance.

At this, Emily finally smiles, nodding with a soft chuckle. "Yeah, I guess I did. That's a good start."


End file.
